


Where We Hide

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-21
Updated: 2009-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean only ever <i>dreams</i> the world is broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Hide

  
The park's deserted, silent and still like it's early in the morning.

The bench Dean's sitting on is new wood, it's smooth and hard underneath him. He doesn't recognise the place, he's never been here before, and he doesn't remember how he got here.

Fog drifts slowly across the grass, curling near his feet, thick and hypnotic, muting out half the world. If he looks far enough into it he thinks the city starts to edge its way into rust and ruin.

He knows the world hasn't turned into this, not yet, no matter how much it feels like that's where they're heading, what they're slipping towards.

Dean only ever _dreams_ the world is broken.

And knowing it's a dream makes everything suddenly harder, and rougher, he knows that the curl of fog in the distance is going to be as cold and empty as death, because Dean knows where most of his dreams go.

He knows that the world will fall away, turn red and hollow-

"Hello, Dean."

Dean turns his head and finds Castiel next to him on the bench.

Close enough that the fog doesn't touch him.

Dean exhales relief, and it's thick and sharp, before he's even thought about it. Because if there's one thing he knows with any certainty it's that if Castiel is here then he's not going to fall into hell.

"Hey, Cas." Relief makes his name soft, almost affectionate, and Dean doesn't care.

Though it occurs to him that he can't be entirely sure whether it's _actually_ him, or whether Dean's conjured him up out of his own head.

 _To save him from the darkness._

"Are you real?" Dean asks, and he can't quite look at Castiel when he says it. He stares into the fog instead. "Is this really you here?"

Castiel tilts his head to look at him, expression soft but completely unreadable.

"This is your dream, Dean, not mine," he tells him. But something in his voice is intent, a subtle push, like there's something he needs to understand.

"What does that even mean?" Dean demands, though he's not sure he wants to know the answer.

But there's something there- something.

"This is my dream?"

Castiel gives one slow nod, and it almost feels like permission.

Dean lifts a hand.

He folds it over the curve of Castiel's shoulder, finds him real enough, realer than the fog, warm under the material of his coat. Castiel watches him, curious and expectant.

Dean thinks maybe he's testing his humanity. Finding where there's muscle and bone and all the things people are made of, and it's reassuring, somehow, though he couldn't say why. Until his fingers touch the warm edge of Castiel's throat, and there's a brief, heavy thrum of something which isn't curiosity at all.

And it's much harder to lie to yourself in a dream.

His hand goes very still, and then accepts where he's going. His thumb presses into Castiel's mouth, and his dream makes it soft, makes it warm, and he swears, hard under his breath and leans in. Castiel doesn't stop him.

His mouth is warm, and it opens on a breath, curious and strangely new.

It feels wrong- bright and furious, and _wrong_. But Dean thinks maybe here it doesn't matter at all.

The wood creaks when Dean shifts into him, one hand sliding into Castiel's cold hair, tilting his head and leaving the kiss slow and open. The angel makes a quiet noise under Dean's careful pushes, something surprised and real.

Dean wants to kiss him until his mouth hurts, and he thinks maybe Castiel would let him.

It's easy, the way dreams make everything easy.

Nothing has ever been this easy in real life.

He pulls back.

"You should stop me," he says quietly. "You'd never let me do this when I'm awake."

"Would you ever do this while you were awake?" Castiel's voice is low and rough. Different shades that Dean has never heard in real life.

He tightens his fingers in Castiel's hair rather than answer, because they both already know the answer to that.


End file.
